


Russian Relations.

by whyamIalwaysLoislane (Whyamialwaysloislane)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, M/M, Plot with porn to follow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyamialwaysloislane/pseuds/whyamIalwaysLoislane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Anthea are away on buisness. A fleeting moment of lost signal causes Mycroft to need Anthea's blackberry. In this  fleeting moment, Anthea locks eyes with a mysterious Russian benafactor. Devka Kharitona. This is what Happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blurb/Summary thingy... full thing will be uploaded soon. So this is just a little taster.  
> Yeah this is Femslash... So what :) Hope you like.  
> I do have a few weird head cannons that will be in ALL of my sherlock stories:  
> Mycroft and Greg have a dog called Oscar (this is because me and my girlfriend's plan to have a dog called Oscar and everyone calls us Greg and Mycroft because of a Ibegtodreamanddiffer fanfiction) (Give Me A LAbel, and I'll make confetti) (I REALLY reccomend it, or any of her work)  
> and two. Mycroft Holmes love platypi. Platypus!! It came from a really weird English lesson with my friend... so yeah.  
> ~Eli

**I am sorry Gregory. I will be still in Russia for a few more days; the bargain is taking a while to settle in. I shall be home for our anniversary. Warm my side of the bed, if you please with Oscar. -MH.**

_It's Fine. Honestly, just as long as you are back for our 10th anniversary. And by the way why is this from Anthea? - Greg._

**Mine has no signal Greg, and still happens to be in my hotel room. Valissia is never to far away from a device and I have just been informed of the extension. -MH**

_Oh so it's Valissia now. Tell Anthea I say Hi. Why Valissia? -Greg._

**I believe 'When in Russia,' was her explanation. She shall be back to Anthea in the morning. Anyway I shall have to go entertain the guests. -MH**

_It's not your party... -Greg_

**I know but the party is dull, it need the Holmes touch. -MH**

_Well go party and I'll cuddle the dog in a pit of loneliness. -Greg_

**I thought you were having John and Dimmock over to watch the match? -MH.**

_I am, i just wanted to tease you. Hugs and Kisses!! (and a big sloppy one from Oscar!) -Greg._

**You, Gregory, are a tease. However Valissia is glaring at me now, i am going to give her phone back. I shall talk when I get back to my phone Gregory. I love you. -MH.**

_I love you too. Now party! And stop killing Anthea. I can see the headlines now; British Government’s right hand woman killed by lack of Blackberry. –Greg_

****Anthea appears to have run of with a blonde Russian... -MH.****

__Oh, how bizarre... Wait a man?? -Greg.__

**Don't be ridiculous Greg. A woman. Anthea's about as gay as you. -MH**

_Oh hardy har. She'll show up in the morning. Demanding her blackberry. -Greg._

**I can have you shot. You do know that. -MH.**

_Ooh! I'm so scared! :P -Greg._

**... -MH**

_You can't shoot me. The world would die from the lack of the sexiest DI. -Greg ;)_

**I'd have to find Sherlock a new nanny. -MH.**

_That's John Myc. -Greg._

**That is a point. -MH**

_John says to Fuck off. -Greg._

**Tell him to have a lovely day -MH.**

_He's blushing now. Dimmock made a rather funny comment. -Greg._

**Care to share? -MH.**

_I videoed it... John tackled him and threw popcorn at him. John Watson is a teenage girl. -Greg._

**Your night sounds amusing. -MH.**

_Yours not?? -Greg._

**Do you think Russian fundraisers are fun? When the alternative is being cuddled up with you and Oscar? -MH.**

_Guess not. But you get free vodka. -Greg._

**That is a point. -MH.**

_Oh and I bought you some platypus pyjamas. ;) -Greg._

**God. I love you. -MH.**

_I just have to bribe you with platypus pyjamas :) -Greg._

**Why not. Platypi! -MH.**

_Playtpusses. turning the BRITISH GOVERNMENT into a blithering child. -Greg._

**It's Platypi Greg. PLATYPI. -MH.**

_Do I even have to say anything. Well John and Dimmock have gone to the pub and I'm going to have a bath and go to bed like a lonely old housewife. Good Night Mycroft :) -Greg_

**Good Night Gregory -MH.**

 

 

 


	2. Meet and Greet.

Anthea ran her index finger around the rim of her martini glass, as Mycroft punched symbols into her beloved blackberry. Exasperated, she let out a long sigh, picked up her small black clutch and walked to the restroom.

The bathrooms were long, marble and cool. One wall was mirror, floor to ceiling, apart from the protruding sinks. The other was crammed with expensive black cubicles. Anthea set her clutch on the sinks ledge and clicked it open. She extracted a black lipstick case and began touching up her lipstick. In that moment she heard one of the stalls flush and a lock snap open. From the third stall from the door, a slender, tall, blonde female stepped out. She had astonishingly high cheekbones, and icy blue eyes. Her dress was red; it looked like sex and made Anthea lick her lips, extremely skilfully not smudging a bit. The tall blonde stepped towards the basins and gracefully waved her hand under the tap, the water pouring onto her hands and making her bronzed skin glisten. Anthea could only imagine how amazing the rest of her looked, with or without water. The woman’s red lips slipped into a smirk.

“Yes, I’m single. Before you ask.” The woman asked, in perfect Russian.

“I didn’t ask.” Anthea replied, as quick and sharp as the woman, also in perfect Russian.

“You wanted too.” The woman smirked, her plump red lips still smirking as she walked to the towel on the wall next to Anthea. The bottom of the woman’s cocktail dress brushed Anthea’s bare legs, sending riveting shivers up Anthea’s spine. Anthea trailed her eyes, up the slender woman’s body, her dress hugged every curve on her body perfectly, and Anthea could vouch for the emphasis on the woman’s cleavage given by the dress. “Natasha Devka,” the woman offered Anthea a long boned hand, “you work for the Mycroft, yes?”

“Valissia.” Anthea smiled, and shook Natasha’s hand, after scrambling for her cover name this occasion. Natasha gripped Anthea’s hand, pulling her closer, luscious lips inches from Anthea’s ear.

“Is that a cover name?” Natasha whispered, Anthea bit her lip and nodded. “You could have done better.” Natasha’s eyes rolled down Anthea’s curvaceous frame. “I like you.” Natasha replied, in English now. The English tongue appeared to roll of hers as fluently as Russian did to Anthea.

“I’m glad.” Anthea replied, in English.

“Ahh, you are English.” Natasha’s accent was as smooth as rich melted chocolate.  A quick mental image flashed through Anthea’s mind that caused her eyes to darken with lust. Natasha’s finger ran up Anthea’s arm.  “Does Mycroft need you back soon?” Natasha whispered, even in the empty bathroom her voice hung. Anthea’s eyes fell to the door, then back too Natasha, then once again to the door.

“He’ll just have to do without me.” Anthea looked back up to Natasha, whose finger was tracing the lace pattern of Anthea’s sleeve. Natasha dropped her finger and used her thumb to brush Anthea’s lip.

“You’ve just re-applied your lipstick.” Natasha cooed, but the tease was clear in her voice.

“I’ll just have to reapply it.” Anthea breathed, the hunger for Natasha taking over. “Won’t I?”

Natasha didn’t reply. Instead she pressed her lips to Anthea’s; Anthea didn’t have the time to gasp. Natasha’s lips were soft but forceful as they caressed Anthea’s, she tasted like champagne and strawberries. The mental image of Natasha’s soft lips closing around the soft fruit was enough to drive Anthea wild. Gently but forcefully, Anthea shoved Natasha against the sink. Their positions swapped in seconds. Anthea’s hands were onto Natasha’s waist and scrunching up her dress. Natasha perched onto the sink, her legs wrapping around Anthea’s waist. Anthea nipped at Natasha’s lip and she let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a hiss.

Then Natasha took control. Her long nimble hands were slipping down Anthea’s dress zipper, her cold skin brushing against Anthea’s back and down to waist. Pulling her legs tighter and Anthea closer, Natasha ran her other hand up Anthea’s torso, stopping over her chest and adding pressure. Anthea let her guard down and a moan escaped. Anthea’s hands ran up Natasha’s long legs, pushing under her skirt and running her fingers along the skin of her thigh. Anthea broke the kiss for a moment, her hand slipping under a small piece of elastic. Raising her eyebrow at Natasha, Anthea giggled. Natasha did not seem like a garter girl.

Natasha craned her neck and planted soft kisses on Anthea’s neck. Anthea let her head roll back and moaned. Natasha’s soft kisses turned hard in a matter of moments, leaving a trail of red marks.


End file.
